


Signs and Portents

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-18
Updated: 2007-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Mark Darcy is not a man who typically believes in signs and portents, but in this case he clearly would be foolish to deny their existence.





	Signs and Portents

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I wish to hell I did.
> 
> Notes: There is a delightful deleted scene on the _BJD_ DVD in Europe (at least, I think it's on the European DVD) that presumably originally fit in some time after the book launch ([see it here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S8nAmkXEDA)). It's lifted out of EOR (the book), where Bridget goes down to the dumpster to wait for Tom's phone to ring, and Mark happens by. While he doesn't find the stack of self-help books like he does in the book, he does find and answer the phone for her. He watches her walk back into her building, which explains later how he knows where she lives. It must have been cut so early on that it didn't even make to post production, because there is no phone-ringing sound effect and some of the dialogue is very hard to hear—but pretend it hadn't been cut from the movie.

It's funny how things turn out sometimes.

He'd been waiting for this day for five long years—before his marriage, before his divorce, a more constant part of his life than she ever was—and yet it isn't the court victory that has made the day as memorable as it's been. One would think that screwing up a little courage and bearing his true thoughts and feelings to a woman he barely knew and had sorely misjudged, then renewing the acquaintance today, would rank lower on the scale of memorable events than defending a political refugee from deportation and death, but strangely, it doesn't, reinforced by the look—the _smile_ —on her face when she turned to him in the corner shop, initially thinking he was a queue-jumper.

Oh, it was quite a smile, followed by the comment falling from her lips echoing his _I like you just as you are_ sentiment from their previous encounter. She obviously assumed he hadn't heard when in actuality his response of _Sorry?_ was due to not believing he had really heard it. The very utterance opened up a wealth of possibilities he could not help but continue considering as she interviewed Kafir, Eleanor and himself. He couldn't be sure if her mention of a crush was referring to Kafir or to himself, but he likes to think maybe he's now considered something more than overbearingly rude and haughty.

But now he's home alone, happy mood or not. He feels like maybe he should have accepted Natasha's invitation to dinner but he honestly did not want to spend the evening with her, not when he had been mentally composing a speech to let her down easy. He couldn't truly say 'break up' because it wasn't as if they really did anything but take meals with one another, attend social events, and sleep together on occasion. He didn't really have any emotional investment in her when all was said and done; it was, however, better than nothing.

He shakes his head, not wanting to think about that now.

As he begins to slip out of his suit jacket, he realises that he has been so lost in his thoughts that he has forgotten to pick up an evening edition of the paper like he meant to do. He sighs. He doesn't much fancy going out again now that he's home, especially with the continued threat of rain, but he also doesn't fancy not having something to read over dinner.

He grabs his keys and heads out again.

The nearest newsstand is a block and a half away. It doesn't take long to reach it. He is disappointed to find the papers have all sold out.

He continues walking, trying to analyse why it had been so important to let her know that he didn't despise her or think of her as subhuman (rather, the opposite) and he realises he can't pinpoint it. Maybe it's because he's had enough of pretense and façades and while she talks incessantly to cover up her nervousness, there is not much that is untrue about her.

In his wandering he realises to his amazement that he is has ended up at a newsstand that is across the street from where she lives and very near to where he had come to her rescue and found her phone in the dustbin, she dressed in nothing but a terry cloth towel and an overcoat, a large curler in her hair. He smiles at the memory that underscores his previous thought on her genuineness. He is sure that he didn't end up here consciously, quite sure, but here he is. He picks up a copy of the paper and checks to ensure that all sections are present—and is further surprised to see that the front page of the center section is emblazoned with the headline "KAFIR FREED—TELLS ALL TO TV'S BRIDGET JONES".

Wondering if he should interpret this as an omen, he pulls it out so that it's on the front and starts to read a little bit before the man at the newsstand clears his throat as if to remind him his stand is not a lending library. He mutters an apology and pays.

He mulls over walking to the building and ringing the doorbell, but his feet have other plans, and even though he hasn't decided whether or not he should pop in on her, he's suddenly on the landing in front of the door of her building. He stares at the row of doorbells, which proclaim hers to be the flat on the top floor (judging from the numbers and the arrangement of them). His finger is hesitantly poised over her bell when he glances to the side and looks closely at the door.

It's ajar.

He is not a man who typically believes in signs and portents, but in this case he clearly would be foolish to deny their existence.

He slips into the building, carefully closing the door behind himself, and scales the stairs, oddly anxious. Again his limbs wrest control from his conscious thoughts and as he considers the merits of knocking, he already is.

He hears footsteps approaching, sees the door swing open, and it hits him again how unpretentious she is, for who else does he know that would consider receiving a visitor with viscous white food sprayed across their front and face? She mutters an _Oh_ in surprise.

He steps closer and speaks, unwittingly explaining what prompted his visit: 

"The door was open."

_The end._


End file.
